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Chapter 28: Blame

  I combed through the spot where Vom had been, discovering just crushed vegetation and displaced foliage. The diminutive goblin had slipped away under cover of darkness, with only subtle impressions in the soil leading into the dense thicket as evidence he'd been there. Perhaps this was for the best; he'd fulfilled his role by alerting me to the bandits' presence. Yet I couldn't help but question whether the shell-shocked monster would make it alone out there. Did he go back to Gomka's camp, or did he run away to his freedom?

  Perhaps I'll never know.

  Following the worn dirt path away from the farm, I caught sight of moving torches ahead. The village patrol walked in formation, weapons ready. Mallie's small form stood out among the adults, her bow at her side.

  Stop, I projected to the group. Several jumped at my Mind Speech. I have news.

  "No Eyes?" Mallie stepped forward while the others gripped their weapons tighter.

  I explained about finding Vom at the raiders' camp, about Gomka and his gang attacking the farm up ahead, and how I'd convinced them to leave Weath for good.

  "You actually let them go?" Farmer Tull's face reddened. "Those murderers?"

  There were ten. All strong, I projected. Fighting would be tough. Endanger family.

  "They killed children in their sleep!" another villager shouted. "And you just let them walk away?"

  I chose to protect Living. Rather than avenge dead.

  "No Eyes is right," Mallie said firmly. "The Henriks could have died if there was a fight."

  After a heated discussion, the patrol split into two groups. One headed toward the farm to check on the Henriks, while the other turned back to inform Mayor Antos of what had transpired. I fell in step beside Mallie as we walked with the second group.

  "Did they really just leave?" she whispered. "Just like that?"

  Yes, I told her simply.

  I didn't respond any further, my thoughts drifting to Gomka's words about sanctuary and acceptance. But the memory of his casual dismissal of human lives pushed those thoughts away.

  We reached the village proper, torchlight from windows casting long shadows across empty streets. The patrol leader knocked on the mayor's door while the rest of us waited in tense silence.

  Mayor Antos shuffled out of his house, his sleeping cap askew and robe hastily tied. Despite the late hour, his eyes were sharp and alert as he listened to the patrol's report.

  "So this monster gang was behind all the killings." He stroked his white beard. "And No Eyes here drove them off?"

  I confronted them. At Henrik farm, I projected. Convinced them to leave.

  "Well then." Antos turned to me, his weathered face breaking into a grateful smile. "Seems we owe you our thanks. The Henriks are good folk. Lost their eldest in the Hellzone two summers back."

  "Thanks?" Tull stepped forward, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Mayor, that thing let killers walk free! Should've torn them apart, like it did to those slavers at Qordos."

  "Enough." Antos's voice carried the weight of authority despite his bedclothes. "Those are words for daylight hours. I'll call a meeting tomorrow, and we can discuss everything properly then."

  Tull opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it.

  "For now," Antos continued, addressing the patrol, "keep your rounds going. Just because No Eyes convinced them to leave doesn't mean they won't try sneaking back. Double the watch on the eastern approaches."

  The patrol members nodded, though some still cast dark looks my way. As they moved to resume their positions, Antos caught my attention with a small gesture.

  "Thank you," he said quietly. "Whatever else gets said tomorrow, you protected our people tonight. That counts for something in my book."

  I inclined my helmeted head in acknowledgment, watching as he disappeared back into his home. The door closed with a soft click, leaving me alone in the torch-lit street with my thoughts.

  I stood at the back of the town hall, my mechanical body hunched over. The morning sun streamed through dusty windows, casting long shadows across packed wooden pews. Familiar faces from Qordos (Derek, Old Willem, and others) clustered near the front, while most villagers kept their distance from my corner.

  Mayor Antos called the meeting to order, but Farmer Henrik jumped up before he could speak.

  "That thing was talking to them like old friends!" His finger jabbed in my direction. "Letting killers walk free after what they did to the Sholz family!"

  "No Eyes let them just leave!" his wife added, her voice shrill. "Why would it do that unless it was working with them?"

  I chose speech instead of violence, I projected to the crowd. Several people flinched at my Mind Speech. Fighting would have. Endangered you.

  "See? It admits letting them go!" Tull stood, face red. "Those murderers deserved justice!"

  "Justice?" Mallie pushed through the crowd. "Like getting the Henriks killed in a fight? No Eyes made the right choice!"

  Old Willem's gravelly voice cut through the shouting. "That monster saved all our lives at Qordos. Freed us from slavery. You think it'd throw that away to help some raiders?"

  "Different kinds of monsters," someone muttered. "They stick together."

  The refugees who remained, barely a quarter of our original group, voiced their support for me. Derek described how I'd helped them to defend themselves. Others recounted the escape from the slave camp.

  But the villagers' fear ran deeper than the facts. I saw it in their eyes when they looked at my mechanical body, heard it in their whispers about monsters and murder. Even those I'd directly saved seemed unable to separate me from their terror of the unknown.

  Mayor Antos raised his hands for silence. "No Eyes has proven itself a protector of this village, not an enemy. The raiders are gone. Now we must decide how to prevent their return."

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  "By killing them when we had the chance!" Henrik shouted.

  "By getting help from the baron!" another voice called.

  "The baron won't help," Mallie said. "We need to defend ourselves!"

  The arguing continued, voices rising and falling like waves. I remained still in my corner, watching the divide between those who knew me and those who feared me grow wider with each heated word.

  I will continue. To protect this village, I projected finally. Whether you trust me. Or not.

  Some faces softened at that. Others hardened further. The meeting dissolved into smaller arguments about patrols and defenses, but the core question remained unresolved: could a monster truly be trusted to protect humans?

  I patrolled the village's eastern edge, my mechanical legs moving silently through the morning mist. A group of farmers worked the fields ahead. Some waved. Others turned their backs.

  "Monster lover!" someone shouted at Farmer Reese when he offered me a nod. Reese just shrugged and continued working.

  "That thing saved my boy, who was at Henrik's farm that night," he called back. "Could've been a bloodbath if it chose violence."

  I kept walking, already used to how conversations shifted when I passed. The village had split into clear factions after the meeting. Those who knew me from Qordos formed a core of supporters, along with families like the Reeses, who'd appreciated that I chose peace over bloodshed.

  But others grew bolder in their hatred. They spat when I passed, whispered "murderer" just loud enough for me to hear. A rock occasionally flew my way, though none dared confront me directly. My mechanical form and four arms, along with the weapons I held in them, served as enough deterrent.

  "Morning, No Eyes!" Derek waved from his family's vegetable plot. His father, once wary of me, now nodded in greeting. "Pa says your way of handling those raiders was right smart. Saved us all a heap of trouble."

  Thank you, I projected. How are the defenses?

  "Better now that folks ain't so scared of you helping," Derek said. "Some of them farmers who called you monster last week? They saw how you didn't fight when you could've. Made them think different about what monsters are supposed to be."

  I continued my rounds, noting how the fearful glares from some contrasted with warm greetings from others. The division in the village was clear, yet it wasn't as simple as before. Those who'd witnessed my choices understood something had changed. A monster choosing peace challenged everything they believed about my kind.

  Old Willem summed it up best when I passed the pub: "Never thought I'd see the day when a monster showed more sense than humans. But here we are, better off 'cause you didn't give in to violence. Makes a man question what he thinks he knows."

  His friends nodded in agreement, their wrinkled, wizened faces looking quite somber at his words.

  I paused before Goodmak's General Store, catching my reflection in the grimy window. The morning sun cast harsh shadows across my cobbled-together form, making me look even more monstrous than usual. My pale face peered out from behind the asymmetrical mask I'd crafted of scrap metal and oak planks, the eyeless face plate somehow more unsettling in the warped glass.

  The mechanical body I'd built was all the wrong proportions; I had a truncated torso perched atop legs that stretched too long, like a spider's. My original left arm looked almost delicate next to the longer metal one I'd constructed on the right. The two additional arms sprouting from my back completed the insectoid appearance, jointed and angular where they shouldn't be.

  My hair was the only feature that wasn't monstrous; the long black strands cascaded down my back like silk, a reminder of whatever I'd been before becoming this patchwork creature. I reached up with my flesh hand to touch it, watching the reflection mimic my movement.

  I'd built this body for efficiency in combat, focusing on reach and multiple weapon capabilities. Every joint, every gear had been crafted for maximum damage potential. No wonder the villagers recoiled; I looked like something born to kill.

  I could rebuild it, I thought, examining the crude mechanisms visible through gaps in the plating. Make it more proportional. Less… monstrous. My Assembly ability had improved significantly. With the right materials, I could craft something less threatening, something that wouldn't send children running when I walked past their homes.

  The reflection stared back, a monster trying to remember how to look human. Perhaps if I appeared more like them, moved more like them, they'd see past what I was to who I might be.

  I stepped away from the window, my mechanical joints whirring with renewed purpose. Of course! It was so obvious now. My current form prioritized combat efficiency over approachability. No wonder the villagers struggled to see past my monstrous appearance.

  I would build something different. Something more... human.

  My flesh hand traced the crude joints of my mechanical arms. The Assembly ability hummed within me, already spinning designs through my mind. I'd need to modify the central chassis, create quick-release mechanisms for rapid transitions between forms. This combat frame could remain stored away somewhere until it was needed.

  The new body would need proper proportions. Two arms, not four. A torso scaled to human dimensions. Legs that bent the right way, not these backward-jointed approximations I'd cobbled together in that shed at Qordos.

  I began sketching in the dirt with a metal finger, mapping out connection points and joint assemblies. The villagers wouldn't flinch at a more conventional shape. Children might stop hiding behind their parents when I passed. Perhaps I could even sit at Old Willem's table without making the other patrons nervous.

  I felt like laughing at my own blindness. All this time I'd been focusing on function over form, never considering how my appearance affected those around me. No wonder they feared me. I'd built myself to look like a killing machine.

  I stepped into Goodmak's General Store, the floorboards creaking under my mechanical weight. The clerk, Sarah Goodmak, flinched at my entrance but held her ground behind the counter.

  I'd like to see. Your plates and tea sets. Please. I projected, keeping my mental voice soft and unthreatening.

  Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Plates?" Her hands stopped their nervous wringing. "You want... dishes?"

  Yes.

  Curiosity overcame her fear. "Well... follow me then." She led me to the back of the store where shelves displayed various plates and cutlery. The lower rows held basic earthenware dishes, while the shelving above displayed finer porcelain and ceramic pieces. "These came from Vale last month. Proper crockery these are, though we don't get many buyers for the fancy stuff out here."

  I examined a delicate teacup, carefully lifting it with my original hand. The porcelain was thin enough to be translucent, with a fine pattern of blue flowers along the rim. Perfect.

  How much. For full set? I asked, already calculating how many cups and saucers I'd need for the finger joints alone.

  "Six silvers for the tea service." Sarah watched me handle the cup with growing fascination. "Though I don't understand what a... someone like yourself wants with fine porcelain."

  Materials. For building.

  I set the cup down and moved to examine a stack of dinner plates.

  These as well. And those serving platters.

  "You're going to build something?" Her fear had completely vanished now, replaced by genuine interest.

  New body. I touched the crude metal of my current form. This one, built for battle. Now realize appearance matters. Too.

  "Porcelain for a body?" She picked up one of the plates. "It's so fragile though."

  I know methods. To strengthen. Will work for intended purpose.

  Sarah started gathering the items I'd indicated, her movements now relaxed and efficient. The fear that had greeted my entrance was gone, replaced by the professional demeanor of a merchant serving a customer. It was a small change, but it meant everything.

  "Are you sure you can pay for all this?" She asked as she looked down at the large pile of porcelain goods sitting atop the main counter. It was the store's entire collection of expensive tableware.

  Yes.

  I pulled several bags filled with silver coins from my Depository. The silver pieces came from looting Qordos, and I counted myself fortunate that my Depository recognized the currency as a storable resource.

  Sarah's eyes widened at the sight of the coin bags. Her hands trembled slightly as she counted out the silver pieces, stacking them in neat piles.

  "That's forty silver total," she said, pushing the remaining bags back toward me. "And here I was worried you couldn't afford it." A small laugh escaped her. "Shows what I know."

  Keep five silver, I projected. For your kindness.

  "Oh! I couldn't..." Her cheeks flushed. "But thank you. And... I really am curious to see what you will make with all of this." She gestured at the pile of porcelain. "Never thought plates and tea cups could be used for building before."

  I gathered the delicate pieces into my Depository, feeling the familiar shift as they disappeared into that other space. The weight counter ticked up, but I still had plenty of room.

  Thank you, I projected.

  Sarah smiled, and bid me a good day.

  I nodded, my mechanical joints whirring softly as I turned to leave. The bell above the door chimed as I stepped outside, my mind already racing with designs. The porcelain would work perfectly for what I had planned. Perhaps I could even incorporate some of the floral patterns into the visible sections...

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